


Of Cats, Curiosity, and Pest Control

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [200]
Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Spirits, Drabble, Gods, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Prompt Fic, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 05:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: In a long-forgotten, destroyed village sleep forgotten domestic spirits, gods of small, insignificant things.One wakes when offerings are given, curious about the one human moving among them once more.





	Of Cats, Curiosity, and Pest Control

**Author's Note:**

> From a list of prompts over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com).
> 
> The prompts are all written by [@normal_horoscopes](http://normal_horoscopes.tumblr.com) over on tumblr! I encourage you to check them out!

_Virgo: Overgrown farm country long abandoned in a time of war. All that stands is the foundations of homes and the altars to domestic spirits that still hold the thresholds. A safe place._

Cheshire looks up, smiling when he sees the strange, wonderful human who’s been around the ruined village lately. His arms are full of flowers, and Cheshire can see him quietly distributing them to the other domestic spirits. None of them have manifested, content to lay dormant, but Cheshire has always been a spirit of curiosity, as well as mousing. Well, okay. Technically his domain is the ‘eradication of vermin’, but mousing is the most fun. And the tastiest. Bugs don’t taste great, in his opinion.

His form melts into that of a ghostly white cat that bleeds a gentle mist as the human approaches his altar. He won’t be able to see him, and Cheshire might have the strength to manifest, but he doesn’t have the strength to follow him home, yet. Not after years and years of Time’s neglect. Not after War ran roughshod over this quiet farm country and anointed the crop-fields with blood.

Still, War’s influence is gone, now, and the small, domestic gods sleep, without purpose, now that there are no people here.

He sits, curled atop his altar as the human approaches with- oh, a bundle of catnip! How delightful! That will be fun.

But the human stops cold in his tracks when he approaches the altar. Cheshire can’t help a soft noise of complaint. What’s wrong?

“A cat?” The human mutters, but he would know if there were other cats around. The only cat here is- _him_. He turns wide, too-purple eyes on the human, before transforming, all warm brown skin and soft white fur.

“Gimme my offering.” He pouts up at the human. “I wanna _pla-a-ay_ ,” Cheshire reaches, opening and closing his clawed fingers hopefully. The human move forward, and awkwardly sets the flowers in his hopeful hands. Cheshire knows his pupils are wide with excited interest. “You _can_ see me!” He breathes, clutching the flowers to his chest.

“I- yes. Are you- are you a god?” The human asks in an odd, breathless tone, slowly folding down until he’s sitting on his knees in front of Cheshire’s altar.

“Mm, sort of?” Cheshire shrugs, stuffing an entire stalk of catnip in his mouth gracelessly. “We’re household spirits. Family gods. We’ve never been worshipped anywhere else, so here we stay. Everyone else is asleep. One human isn’t enough for most of them to wake up. But one of my domains is curiosity, even if I wasn’t ever worshipped for that.” He shrugs again, peering at the human curiously. “It’s rare for a human to have the Sight. Special.” He says, wondering when his- the human had awakened it.

“I’m mostly blind.” The human says softly. Oh! How interesting! Still.

“That doesn’t rule out having the Sight. Or make it innate. That’s literally just a coincidence. What’s your name? How come you’re acting like I’m the first household spirit you’ve seen? I’m Cheshire.” Cheshire asks eagerly.

“You are. We don’t- have little altars like these anymore. Or well. I know some people do, but they’re different, I guess? I’ve never felt anything from any of them, not like the odd impressions I get here. I’ve definitely never- _seen_ anything before. And my name is Myû.” He says softly. Cheshire scrunches up his face sadly, setting the catnip down on his altar.

“Really? Did War destroy all of the little rituals to properly invite in domestic spirits? It destroyed this village. I thought maybe people would come back. Surely people still farm. Surely they _need_ a domestic spirit of vermin extermination. Of cats. Of curiosity. But I’ve never felt a call.” He says softly. Myû’s mouth twists into something soft and sympathetic, and he gently reaches out a hand and tentatively touches Cheshire’s fluffy, curly white fur.

“Maybe it isn’t just that. Maybe we forgot the old ways to call for you, but maybe you all forgot how to listen for other ways we need you. Other ways we call for you, to worship you and offer you homes with us.” Myû says softly, and Cheshire realizes, dimly, that the other domestic spirits, despite their slumber, seem to be listening intently. Sure, it’s safe here, quiet and safe and deserted, but all of them want to be useful again.

But if they go out into the world, what if the other gods, the big gods, find them again? Trample over what the small, homely, slightly-better-than-useless gods cultivate, once again.

Cheshire realizes they’ve all been hiding, in the safety of slumber, in the quiet waning of their powers. They’ve taken to heart what the big gods always regarded them as- useless, unneeded. He stands up, tentatively stepping away from his altar, and reaches out to Myû, catching him in a slightly insubstantial embrace.

“Is there a place for us?” He asks, voice soft, still shocked that he actually managed to step away from his altar. The place that has sustained him on the memory of worship for so long.

“I think so.” Myû returns, and Cheshire smiles, frail and hopeful. He changes back into his cat form, stepping delicately into Myû’s lap and looking up at him expectantly. Myû laughs. “You’re definitely a cat,” he murmurs, but he gently picks up Cheshire, and stands.

And carries the small, domestic god of cats, of curiosity, of vermin extermination away from this place of safety, and back into the world.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
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>   * Questions
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End file.
